Pamela Stone - Second Chance Dad

That blue stare bored into her and held her captive.

“I need to go.”

“Don’t.” Before she could take a step, he pulled her to him. His lips covered hers, demanding and receiving. His tongue exploring and enticing.

Pressing her body into his embrace, she rubbed her hands up his back and tangled them around his neck. The short hair at the nape of his neck tickled her fingertips, but she could do little more than groan in satisfaction at the familiar scent of shampoo and sweat.

“Hanna,” Vince whispered against her lips as he held her tight against him. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

Dear Reader,

Although the characters and businesses created in this book are fictitious, Marble Falls is real—a cozy little town in the beautiful Texas Hill Country. If you’ve never been to Texas, driving across the huge state is like traveling to several different countries. From the towering pines in east Texas to the gulf coast to the mountains in Big Bend, each area is unique. However, the Hill Country in the heart of the state is one of my favorite locales. Rolling hills, lakes and rivers color the landscape of the many small towns famous for mouthwatering home cooking, rafting, antiques and fields of wild flowers. Marble Falls is nestled beside a lake, created by damming the Colorado River. Nice friendly people, a relaxed small-town feel and beautiful scenery create a perfect backdrop for Second Chance Dad.

I hope you enjoy the story and your little trip to the Texas Hill Country as much as I enjoyed writing it. As with all my heroes, there is a little bit of my dad in Vince. That dry sense of humor and unique parenting style that forms a special bond between father and daughter.

Pamela

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Ask how an accounting graduate who spent twenty plus years in the technology field became a romance writer. Take an only child with a wild imagination coupled with summers in the country and lazy walks on one grandparent’s farm or reading romance novels at the other and you have me.

Writing is pure escapism. Childhood imaginary friends developed into teenage fantasies. Later as a mother of two young sons, I began writing to keep in touch with the adult world. I continued writing as a method to wind down after exhausting days in Corporate America. Either way, writing keeps me sane. Cheaper than a therapist and tons more fun.

I still reside in Texas with my childhood sweetheart and husband of…well, we won’t mention how many years. In my spare time I enjoy traveling and spending time with friends and family, especially our adorable grandkids.

I’d like to again thank my editor, Johanna, for believing in my writing and helping bring this book to life. My family for their patience and support. My critique partners, Linda and Juliet, without whom this book might have never gotten written. I’d also like to thank my fans for buying my first book and giving me the confidence to put myself out there again!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Something was badly amiss in the Texas public school system: Hanna Rosser’s straight-A son did not participate in fistfights.

Hanna pulled into the parents’ parking lot of Marble Falls Elementary and tried to keep her cool as a motorcycle roared into the spot she’d been eyeing. Calmly she parked her white Volvo SUV two spaces down and tried not to notice how the tight denim hugged the guy’s long legs as he slid off the macho contraption and headed up the sidewalk, unbuckling his helmet.

Trade the helmet for a Stetson and the Harley for a stallion and he’d epitomize the phrase long, tall Texan. Six feet and some change, dirty cowboy boots and a swagger that said he couldn’t care less what anyone else thought.

Slinging the helmet by the leather strap, he jabbed his fingers through his disheveled hair and then opened the heavy glass door. He stepped back, allowing her to precede him into the hall. For each of his long strides Hanna made two, her heels tapping on the shiny waxed tile in her rush toward the office.

Ashton’s first day in a public school and he’d been involved in a fistfight? This couldn’t be happening.

She reached for the metal handle of the office door, and again, Mr. Tight Jeans leaned around and held it open for her. Deep dimples bracketed his mouth. “After you, ma’am.” His voice held the same interesting mix of smooth and tough as his jeans.

Leading the way into the office, she wondered if this man’s bully son was the one who’d taken a swing at Ashton. Fighting hadn’t been an issue in Ashton’s private school back in Dallas. She’d certainly brought him up to know better than to strike another child.

The secretary stood and nodded. “Ms. Rosser. Vince.”

Vince? Hanna glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he flashed those killer dimples at the little redhead behind the desk. This guy was on a first-name basis? Oh yeah, undoubtedly his son had been picking on the new sixth-grader.

“Please take a seat. We’re just waiting on one more parent, and then Principal Montgomery will see you.”

Vince stood until Hanna sat, and then folded his long, lanky frame into a matching wooden chair, placing his black-and-silver helmet on the one between them with a clunk. She inched farther away as Vince crossed one leg over the other, his giant cowboy boot further staking his claim on the center chair.

Please God, don’t let Ashton’s asthma have flared up. Was her baby boy okay? Richard would have a hemorrhage if any harm had come to his son.

A photocopier occupied one corner of the office, copying, collating and stapling, the noise adding to her nervousness and humiliation during the excruciating wait to go before the principal. The entire experience made her feel as guilty as if she’d been the one called to the office instead of her child.

“So who is the other parent?” Vince asked the secretary.

“William Baer.” She shuffled papers on her desk and looked up as the door creaked and a stocky male entered the office. Even sporting a company emblem on the breast pocket, Mr. Baer’s navy golf shirt and tan Dockers looked more respectable than Vince’s denim ensemble.

Vince stood and shook his hand. “Hey, Will.”

“Vince.”

Hanna smoothed her skirt as she stood, uncomfortable with the way Mr. Baer’s gaze roamed up and down her frame.

He extended his hand. “William Baer, ma’am. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

Accepting the overly zealous handshake, she almost choked on his sweet aftershave. “Hanna Rosser. We just moved to the area this weekend.”